On the walk back to the subway, Blaine thought about the old woman ghost in the elevator.  Who was she?  What did her message mean?  Was she warning Blaine that Kurt didnt want to be tied down to a lowly tavern owner?  If they got back together, Kurt would be stuck in New York for the rest of his life.  What if Hollywood called?  No, Kurt loved New York.  Besides, the message seemed to be for Kurt.  Maybe it was a cautionary tale about taking chances.  Maybe Kurt was scared, and the old woman was telling him not to be.  Would Kurt listen?  Or maybe Blaine was over-thinking it.  Maybe crazy people in life are also crazy people in death.  Blaine didnt know. The old woman could just be the wacky ghost who haunts the Empire State Building elevator.  

Blaine tugged his scarf more tightly around his neck as the cold wind bit into him. He couldnt get to the subway fast enough.  But as he rounded a corner, he slowed when his eyes were caught by a bright pink sign.  It was trimmed with yellow lights flashing on and off in sequence to make a circling configuration. "Medi-uhm," the sign read. 

Blaine wasnt sure what drew him to the sign, but he found his curiosity unshakingly piqued.  He crossed the street against the traffic and walked to the sign, which was over a small, green door that appeared to lead to a basement space.  On the door, the lettering again read, "Medi-uhm" in large, block letters below which read, "Your questions about ghosts answered here." 

Seriously?

Blaine looked up and muttered, "Whatever, Uncle Charlie.  Cant you just scribble a note on an old receipt or something?"  Blaine shrugged.  He had lost Kurt; it felt as though he literally had nothing more to lose, at least emotionally. 

"In for a dime, in for a dollar," mumbled, grabbing the door knob and turning it. 

The door led to a set of stairs leading down to a below sidewalk-level room, just as Blaine suspected.  What he hadnt anticipated was the décor.  Even with the garishness of the sign, he hadnt expected the room to be decorated in a million eye-jarring shades of pink and lavender with furry pink pillows on a purple polka dotted couch.  Sitting on a pink molded plastic chair, poking at a turquoise MacBook Air was a cute blonde with a pony tail, wearing a sweatshirt and jeans. 

"Are you the medium?" Blaine asked. 

"No.  Im Brittany.  You want Lord Tubbington," she indicated the medium with a jerk of her head which made her pony tail bounce. 

Blaine looked in the direction that the girl--Brittany--had indicated with her head, but he only saw a cat, one leg raised in the air, licking his balls.  Blaine was more of a dog person, but this was a cat trait that Blaine had always admired.  Blaine had always suspected that Kurt could probably do that--he was amazingly flexible--but he had been wise enough to never ask. 

"Lord...?" 

"Tubbington."  The girl walked over and scooped the cat up in her arms.  "He says hell answer your questions, but you have to give him a herring."

"A herr...I dont have a herring."

Brittany shrugged, "Okay, then.  He says you can just give him fifty bucks instead."

Oh my God, this was such a scam.  Still, Blaine was completely out of moves.  If he lost fifty bucks to a confidence woman posing as a something My Little Pony would drag in, it would hardly be the worst thing that had happened to him today.  He pulled out his wallet and put two twenties and a ten on the counter. 

Brittany beamed and gestured with a hand, "Please have a seat."

Blaine sat. 

Brittany sat. 

No one said anything. 

Then Blaine realized the girl--and the cat?--were waiting for him to say something. 

"So, I have some questions about ghosts," Blaine started. 

Brittany nodded somberly, and Blaine continued, "I need to know how much they can move.  Are they fixed to particular people or places, or can they go whereever they want?"

Brittany pulled the cat up to her ear, as though listening to feline whispers.  The effect was a little marred by the fact that Lord Tubbington squirmed out of Brittanys arms and stalked away. 

"Lord Tubbington says that they can all move as much as they want, but they have to learn how."

"How do they learn? Is there ghost school?"

"No, silly.  They learn from other ghosts."  She said this as if it were so obvious. 

"Okay, so youre saying that if a ghost is attached to, say, a person, and that person goes where another ghost is, then the new ghost can teach them how to move...?"

"To where the other ghost can go.  Yeah."  Brittany bobbed her pony tail up and down. 

Blaine considered this.  Finn was attached to Rachel, and Rachel had come into the bar.  If the Finn ghost met the Uncle Charlie ghost in the bar, then Finn could go into the bar now, whenever he wanted. 

"Can they eat?"

Brittany nodded, "Sure.  They dont have to eat.  Sometime they dont know they can eat, but they can eat. Sometimes theyll learn they can eat if someone offers them something.  I leave out sardines every night, and our ghost eats those."

"Dont you think that Lord Tubbington probably eats the sardines."

Brittany nodded again, "The Lord Tubbington ghost, yes."

"Wait, Lord Tubbington is a ghost?"

"Yeah.  But not this Lord Tubbington," Brittany nodded her head in acknowledgement to the cat, who was now sharpening its claws on the back of a pink and green striped arm chair. " The other Lord Tubbington.  The one before this one."

"Oooh-kay."

Blaine was down the rabbit hole, so he might as well keep asking questions.  The worst this kook could do was manage to wheedle another fifty out of him.  So Blaine mentally sorted his other questions while Brittany waited patiently for him to continue, swinging her legs and sort of singing to herself. 

"Do they cooperate?  I mean, will a ghost help another ghost?"

"Mmmmm..." Brittany--or Lord Tubbington?--considered the question.  "Well, they dont really have a lot to do most of the time."

"Yeah, but what if they wanted something?  Say they wanted to make something happen.  Could they enlist other ghost friends?" 

"Yeah," Brittany nodded, "But only if theyre really old."

"What do you mean by old?"

"Dead a long time."

"How long is long?"

Brittany shrugged, "I dunno, twenty years?  Maybe more.  Could be less."

"So someone who died recently couldnt help someone else who died recently."

"Its not that they cant.  They just dont know how."

Whoever the ghost was in the elevator, it was unlikely that they were aiding Finn or Uncle Charlie, who had been gone less than ten years.  

"Can a ghost learn?  I mean, if a ghost died in 1890, could he drive a car?  Would another ghost have to show him how?"

Brittany tilted her head and looked up, as if listening to an unheard voice.  Eventually she gave a single nod.  "Lord Tubbington said it depends.  They wouldnt need another ghost.  Its more, like, if a ghost was good at mechanical stuff when he was alive, then hed be good at it when hes dead."

"So Thomas Edisons ghost could operate a computer?" Blaine asked.

"Is that your dad?"

"Thomas Edis...no.  Um, lets put it this way--so Alexander Graham Bells ghost could operate a cell phone?" 

"Who?"

Blaine relied on every ounce of prep school training to keep what he was thinking off of his face.  He was quite possibly listening to the dumbest person alive, except he paid for her advice, so what did that say about him?  He tried again, "So if someone had an aptitude for something, like physics, they could continue to do physics stuff after they were dead, even if it meant operating things that hadnt been invented until after they died."

"Uh huh," Brittany nodded. 

"And if a ghost was bad at electronic stuff when they were alive, they wouldnt be able to figure out new electronics after they were dead."

"Nuh uh," Brittany shook her head. 

"So, if they died in 1980 with their VCR flashing noon, they wouldnt be able to work a smart phone."

Brittany mouthed the letters V-C-R as if shed never heard them before. 

But Blaine had heard enough.  And then suddenly it hit Blaine like a ton of bricks.  He knew who the interfering ghost was.  He didnt know why he hadnt thought of it before. 

He rose suddenly and shook Brittanys hand.  "Thank you so much.  You dont know how much I appreciate it."

"Okay.  Goodbye," Brittany said, like Blaine had said he was popping out for a gallon of milk and hed be right back. 

Blaine raced back to the bar as fast as he could, stopping only once enroute to buy a dozen white tulips (outrageously expensive out of season).  Dashing inside Charlies Tavern, he pulled off his coat and uncorked a bottle of nicely chilled white Bordeaux.  He put the flowers in a vase and set them at Table 6.  He poured two glasses and carried them to Table 6, too, setting one down in front of him and another across the table. 

Then Blaine called out, "Mrs. Hummel?  Elizabeth?   Please come out; I really need your help." 

Blaine had remembered something about Kurts mom. 

Elizabeth Hummel--dead since Kurt was eight--had been an electrical engineer.